


Twelve

by rainistender



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9570251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainistender/pseuds/rainistender
Summary: Stolen from the mysterious island that brought her sleepless nights year after year, she's unexpectedly met with what might very well be the most peculiar of challenges to have come her way thus far. Will she reclaim the freedom that she's suddenly found herself deprived of? Or will an absurd impossibility become an undeniable reality? Like all others that she's traveled up to this point, this road will not prove to be a smooth one when he's just as tenacious.





	1. Establishment

Forsaking extraordinarily vivid yet immensely perplexing sights in favor of returning to a bittersweet reality has always been something of a _**relieving** _ experience since she would customarily enter a persistent state of restiveness come nightfall during her numerable days on the austere planet on which so much changed without warning. The informative process is one that remains second nature to her despite the glaring fact that a hazy island no longer haunts her slumber. It begins with subtle movements. Nimble appendages tentatively navigate silken tides, and that sumptuous fabric is what calls a significant truth to the attention of a now alarmed adolescent. Sable bristles and fleshy lids hastily lift to reveal scintillating pools that ravenously consume all that they encounter. Strangely, an ash colored expanse with ornate engravings haphazardly scattered about it noiselessly greets her vision. A stark contrast to her living conditions on Ahch-to. Inexplicably abducted from a misty island that she thought to be untouchable due to the calming presence of a revered legend, she’s engulfed in complete unfamiliarity and it effortlessly unsettles her. With a sense of urgency, she repositions herself only to come across the identity of her brazen kidnaper.

Similar to the sable sea ‘neath her sinewy form, the solitary figure is swathed in heavy garments that are evocative of impenetrable darkness. This time, the grim mask that once aroused palpable trepidation within her is nowhere to be found. A conspicuous blemish - a symbolic scar - stretches across a familiar countenance. Like before, he’s comfortably seated and it’s quite apparent that the homicidal knight has been waiting for her inevitable return to consciousness. Fervent interest is housed in fathomless optics, but his lips form an indecipherable line. It’s almost as if he’s trying to figure out who should speak first, but the consequential decision is not his to make anymore. “Where am I?”

Those unpredictable lips subtly twitch with mild amusement. He’s undoubtedly discovered the irony that she herself has already become aware of. “The location is of no consequence to you. You’ll be here for quite some time.” Raw indignation swells within her, but an audacious smirk merely appears on his marred visage. Her unarticulated sentiments - these unconveyed emotions - cannot escape his notice as the two of them are irrevocably connected. A loathsome fact that she came to comprehend because of her sagacious teacher and the despicable man who is currently in her presence. 

_'Speaking of him_ …. _'_

                              “You’re wondering how I found you. You’re wondering what happened to Luke Skywalker.”

_'How coldly he speaks of his own uncle. Then again, should I really be surprised? This is the same monster who ran his father through.'_

A pompous smirk quickly becomes a feral sneer. Unsurprisingly, he’s detected her merciless thoughts. “I should have **killed** him. Left him for dead. You’ll be pleased to know I didn’t. Not _then_.” The ominous implication doesn’t escape her, but he speaks before she can tersely address it. “I went there with a specific mission in mind. Naturally, I completed it.“ A discernible frown slowly forms on camellia lips. "You took  me. **Why?** Because I need a teacher? I already have one.” Equipped with a forthright rebuttal, he acknowledges her words with unwavering conviction. “Not the one that you _deserve_. You’re strong. You’ll only squander your time and power if you remain there. I’m prepared to offer you more.” Feminine features embrace unbridled hostility as dismissive words are angrily spat at her ambitious enemy. “I want **nothing** to do with the _dark side_ or _you_.” Her unblushing acrimony is automatically met with a presumptuous smirk. “I know you feel it.”

At that, vigilant optics begin to assess a seemingly aseptic environment. Free of heated sand; free of irremovable stains. This is the spitting image of cleanliness. A total of two cream doors, a set of windowed double doors leading out to what appears to be a balcony, an onyx wardrobe, a spacious desk, and the lavish bed on which she is presently seated occupy the palatial room. Though she rises to begin inspecting them, the engenderment of untempered pride within her - a feeling that she cannot honestly claim as her own - reminds her that she has yet to rebuff his somewhat ambiguous assertion.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.” Brusquely gripping a gold knob, she opens the door to her right only to find a picturesque room designed for bathing. Among other things, an actual bathtub - not a ‘fresher - welcomes her. “You _do_ , but you don’t want to _admit_ it.” Whilst en route to the other door - the one that is inconveniently located beside him, a sizable extremity resolutely captures one of her smaller ones. The unbidden moment of physical contact causes her expressive eyes to instantly widen as electricity runs up her spine. While he purposefully positions himself in between her and the mysterious door - doubtlessly an exit, she is forced to meet his incisive gaze once more. "Let go of my **hand**." 

Her crisp command is blatantly disregarded. “We’re connected. A Force bond. Usually formed between Jedi masters and their padawans, but exceptions can arise. If anything, it proves that I’m **meant** to teach you.” Unwilling to think of that pestilential inconvenience as anything more than an odious anathema - a bothersome hindrance to be despised and neglected, she vehemently shakes her head from side to side. He’s deliberately reached out to her before - mentally planted tempting whispers in her imperfect mind and allowed his invidious presence there to disrupt training sessions, but never before have they conversed about their inseverable link. Not until now, and she’s not exactly pleased with the unforeseen change. “I didn’t **ask** for it. I don’t _want_ it.” His other hand - encased in coarse leather just as its counterpart is - triumphantly overcomes the sheer defiance that her other extremity demonstrates and firmly grasps it. “The will of the Force isn’t for _you_ to decide, and it doesn’t make **mistakes**. You also feel the darkness. Though you cling to the light, it’s futile when the dark side calls to you - when your anger runs so **deep**.”

While she desperately tries to liberate herself from his tenacious hold, she inquires about the meaning behind her unanticipated abduction. Maybe - just maybe - if she can gather enough information, she can foil whatever schemes he has concocted. “Why am I here?” An asseveration departs from his lips in a timely manner and it is as clear as cloudless skies that he believes it to be unassailable. “You can’t **escape** what you can’t **destroy**. You can _run_ \- you’ve _been_ running, but you can’t _escape_. It’s time for you to face it.” He’s right, she doesn’t want to acknowledge the terrible fact that they are eternally tied to one another. Not with him around or in her mind. She isn’t ready to face him when she still hasn’t figured out what to do about him. Killing him is not the appealing option that it had once been. “For fifteen days, you’ll spend your time doing exactly that by being here with me.” So taken aback by this preposterous idea - an invention of his insanity, she momentarily ceases resisting physically. “Absolutely not.” An audible chuckle is elicited from him, but there’s a minute trace of something rather _peculiar_ in his complicated heart.  Pain, perhaps? **Impossible**. “You assume walking away is an option. You’ll soon come to realize that you’re mistaken.”

She has half the mind to kick him in order to free herself, but she knows that she could adventitiously exacerbate this pressing dilemma. Without her hands, her sense of balance is already distorted to a extent. “This is going to be pointless. If you don’t keep me locked in this infernal cage, I’ll keep myself locked in it. Or I’ll look for a way out.” Mirth freely tugs at his mouth. “I can come in whenever I want. If you won’t come out, that **is** an option. You can try to look for a way out, but you won’t find one.” Though her precarious existence has had no tangible significance until recently, it feels undeniably _surreal_ to be partaking in a negotiation like the one at hand. The impeccable ease with which he attempts to control it - to determine precisely how and where it is that her time will be spent - is absolutely infuriating. Teeth that she has still not become completely accustomed to cleaning properly are forcefully grit behind chapped lips. “ **Ten**.” It seems _generous_. Considering she’d much rather leave this **instant** , but she knows that the pleasant taste of freedom will not return to the tip of her sharp tongue so soon. He only procures that which he _craves_ and he has obviously not grown tired of her. A traitorous part of her that she keeps suppressed wonders if he ever will and genuinely  _worries_ about it.

Though the intensity of his unswerving gaze remains redoubtable, those fiery pools are narrowed as if to wordlessly convey the dissatisfaction that her unpremeditated act of insubordination has enkindled within him. There’s this uncomfortable pause during which she cannot help but contemplate the existent possibility of a scorching red abruptly illuminating the room. That awful moment of recklessness does not arise, however. Instead, a single word - a **number** \- is grudgingly uttered. “ _Twelve_.” Umber arches are instinctively elevated in response to his unforeseen magnanimity - if it can truly be called that since he’s still technically acting on **selfish** desires. It’s still more time than she’d like to spend in his presence. Unfortunately, she knows that she’ll receive no better. A reluctant nod is stolen from her and an audible echo is made to accompany it. “ _Twelve_.”

Masculine features forsake the coarseness that they had adopted so precipitately, and the ghost of a smile - one bespeaking smug satisfaction - finds itself a temporary home upon his lips. “We have a _deal_. You’ll stay for twelve days. At the end, if no part of you wishes to stay, you can **leave**. I’ll provide you with a ship on which you can return to the thieves, liars, and traitors that you continue to call friends. Or you can foolishly return to the solitude of that desolate island.” Viridescent eyes are indecorously rolled. The likelihood of her wanting to linger is absolutely inconsiderable, but the bait that has been served is unignorable. So, a single query is posed. “If a part of me _does_?” That confounded smile of his shamelessly widens. Clearly, the abhorrent notion enraptures him. So much so that she can practically _taste_ his immeasurable satisfaction in the air. So much so that she can **feel** it through the accursed link that perpetually binds them.

“If _one_ part of you - however **small** it may be - wants to stay, you’ll stay with me _indefinitely_. All that you see before you and more will be yours just as much as it is mine. I’ll be your _second_ and _final_ Master.” Though she’s quite sure that he will not succeed, knowing how much she would sacrifice were she to somehow be unsuccessful unnerves her. The knowledge itself is profoundly disconcerting. "I’ll be your prisoner **forever**.” Without hesitation, he ‘corrects’ her. “You’ll be my _willing apprentice_ and eventually **more**. You can’t call yourself a prisoner if you _want_ to be by my side. For now, although I do intend to teach you while you’re here, you’re my **guest**. Your fate will ultimately be up to _you_ , but I’m confident that I’ll get what I want.” With that, charcoal gloves release her dexterous extremities. With an obdurate glare, she repudiates his bold prediction. “You _won’t_.” All that greets her is an arrogant smirk. “We’ll see. I’ll leave you to freshen up and familiarize yourself with your **home**. I’ll return for _dinner_.” There’s so much - **too much** \- that she wants to yell at his retreating form as he quickly takes his leave, but none of it comes out. She’s left to her own devices. Enlightened yet concerned about the future, which is ridiculous since she _should_ be absolutely sure of herself. If she **knows** that victory will be out of his reach, why then does a faint trace of  _uncertainty_ lurk in her heart?


	2. Duality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still displeased with her unwanted predicament, Rey endeavors to see just how ineluctable it is. Meanwhile, Kylo finds enjoyment in her presence and discovers buttons that are not meant to be pressed.

He’s undeniably **elated**. It’s almost been an entire year since his fervent red and her tranquil blue coalesced into a captivating ultraviolet. In that time, he’s preoccupied himself with the preparations that were vital to this precise moment. Strengthened his existing skills, adopted new techniques, and claimed that which is rightfully his. Supreme Leader. He's well on his way to officially changing it to Emperor. There was no ease to be found in the consequential enterprise, but he had fully expected that to be the case. While this meritorious attainment has bolstered his pride - fortified the mercurial hubris that already existed alongside taxing and contradictory sentiments such as merciless self-loathing, he has kept the unavoidable fall of his former master from the prying eyes and attentive ears of the Resistance. The element of surprise will surely serve him and those who have allied themselves with him well.

Along with doggedly pursuing the vast greatness that he clearly deserves, he’s also sought _her_ out. The _only_ one fit to rule at his side. He’s known about their inseverable bond much longer than she has and he’s shamelessly attempted to use it to his advantage. Technically, _their_ advantage. For while it is unfortunate that she cannot see it now, he **knows** that he’s acting in her best interests as well as his own. He cannot be convinced otherwise. Nevertheless, he’s ardently motivated her to question the hazy intentions of her chosen teacher, nourished the blazing ire inside of her stormy heart, and tempted her with the fulfillment of her innermost desires under the sole requirement that she must either allow him to go to her or allow herself to go to him. Predictably, he was met with hasty denial, untamed vexation, and unswerving vehemence at every corner - at every _**bend**_. 

However, as much as she certainly tried to, she failed to conceal the growing curiosity that his very existence has conceived within her shrewd mind. It’s become an ineradicable part of her. Over time, it will become insatiable and she will consciously permit it to influence her decisions as they pertain to him. It’s why he knows that though she may find this unsought arrangement meaningless - an unnecessary inconvenience - and the idea of it ending unfavorably for her inconceivable, he _**will**_ prove her wrong. She’s just as unpredictable as he is - one of the numerous reasons why they’ll prove to be the perfect pair to reshape the galaxy and maintain order. The way that these next twelve days unfold may not mirror the plans that have been devised, but the outcome is more or less foreseeable. 

It’s because she’s a wild card that he cannot be surprised when one of the droids that he’s brought to humbly serve them during their stay arrives at his quarters with disappointing news. It’s delivered clinically - as if an analytical assessment is merely being made about the weather. “Master Ren, Lady Rey has left her room. Her wardrobe seems to have been left untouched. I believe this is her way of expressing a lack of interest in dining with you tonight.” It obviously is, but it’s more than that. He can already surmise her current course of action and it does something unpleasant to this aching longing for company that he’s tried so hard to obliterate. “She’s searching for a way off of the planet.” His candid statement is met by a transient moment of consideration before the droid speaks once more. “Shall I search for her?” Dismissively, he shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary. Dinner will wait until we return.” He’ll find her and guide her just as he is always prepared to do. 

It quickly becomes apparent that it hasn’t been terribly long since she departed from her pristine room as he’s able to catch up to her in what feels like no time at all. Of course, time itself becomes insignificant when it comes to **her**. Immediately, he can tell that she’s thoroughly displeased by his sudden appearance, but this doesn’t dissuade him from conversing with her. Even though it both pains and angers him when she’s exceptionally hostile and judges him under the harshest of lights, he truly enjoys hearing her memorable voice. It’s a welcome reminder that he’s not as alone as _Ben Solo_ once was. “Your version of freshen up remarkably differs from its standard meaning.” A scoff unceremoniously brushes her inviting lips. “I didn’t **ask** you to follow me.” Although her luminous presence in the galaxy itself endlessly sings to him while she surely doesn’t mean for it to, he can’t honestly deny that she’s right. “We both have a tendency to do what we aren’t asked to do.” Finally, she deliberately halts in her step and slowly turns to face him. Without thought it seems, she smoothly articulates an observation that cannot be invalidated. “And to _not_ do what we are asked to do.”

“I know you’re hungry. Stop this nonsense and come eat.” Her hazel eyes are unhesitantly narrowed into a scathing glare, and he is suddenly made to listen as sharp words pierce the air. "Leaving a place I was whisked away to without my consent isn’t nonsense.“ He genuinely wants her to be here entirely of her own volition, but that doesn’t mean that he’ll willingly make pointless an act that he’s thought carefully about before committing. For now, he can only find amusing the manner in which she’s described that particular act. “I already told you there isn’t a way off this planet. You’re without a means of escape.” Her youthful countenances evinces undisguised skepticism and soon thereafter, her voice is noticeably colored by sarcasm. “Then how did _ **you**_ get here? I didn’t know Siths could teleport from planet to planet.” He knows that she’ll be surprised by the guileless confession that he promptly utters. “I’m not a Sith.” Naturally, chocolate arches are instinctively elevated. “Then what _**are**_ you?” He has no intention of obscuring the truth. Not only has he made a significant promise to her, but he doesn’t find an ounce of shame in being what he is. “Something entirely different. Neither a Jedi nor a Sith. You’re the same.” 

He doesn’t mean for it to, but that last statement incenses her. “I’m _**training**_ to become a Jedi.” Under _**his** _ guidance, she’ll not become what she isn’t _meant_ to be. She will be **exactly** who she is and not foolishly attempt to conceal her _true_ nature. “Not anymore.” Exasperated now, she gracelessly gestures to their vibrant surroundings. “This - _**all**_ of this - isn’t permanent. I’ll continue to train once I leave.” Eventually, she’ll come to realize just how wrong she is, but there isn’t much that can be done this instant. So, he humors her by drawing attention to the message that her impatience sends out. “If you’re so sure that you _ **will** _ leave, why bother leaving so soon? Could it be that you think you don’t stand a chance?” His queries effortlessly speak to her unrestrained defiance as her staunch glare tightens. “No. I can prove that you bringing here was a mistake.” It wasn’t and never will be, but the thought remains unvoiced.

“Then, come with me to dinner.” There’s a protracted moment of silence in which his counterpart merely glares at him as if attempting to discourage him with a mere look whilst searching for legitimate reasons to reject his tempting offer, but she soon relents. He knows that the call of fresh food is irresistible in her eyes. “Fine. Only because I _**will**_ show you that I can prove you wrong. I don’t care about you or the person you once were at all.” It’s a blatant lie, which is precisely the reason why it doesn’t faze him. Instead, a brazen smirk indiscreetly tugs at his lips. “We’ll see.” Though he courteously offers a gloved extremity, unfeigned disdain colors her bewitching eyes as she glares at **it** instead of him. “I’m not taking _that_.” He only watches as she simply walks in the direction of the majestic estate. It cannot be denied that the coldness - the emptiness - that rests atop his vacant palm leaves him feeling quite disappointed, but the unbidden sentiment is brushed aside as he follows. 

He had hoped to dine after she had a chance to leisurely bathe and change into one of the flattering dresses that presently occupy her wardrobe. Sure, there are practical tunics and trousers in there as well, but he looks forward to seeing her in one of those dresses. A stark contrast to her usual attire. However, their trek back to the picturesque building has fostered an appetite within him and though he knows that she’s accustomed to going days without sustenance, he doesn’t wish for her to suffer when he possesses the ability to keep it from happening. So, he has one of the droids deliver succulent meals to her room. Along with a considerably small table and ornate chairs. Though her table manners - or lack thereof - unarguably amuse him, they also give him the idea to properly educate her himself on the matter in the future. For now, seeing her eat is **enough** because she had been so eager to forego dinner in favor of discovering a means of departure. 

“Tell me about life on Jakku.” It’s the first thing that he’s said since they’ve reentered the sightly room and he can tell that she had not expected him to initiate a discussion at all. In fact, she had wholeheartedly hoped **_against_** it. “Must having dinner involve having a conversation?” Nimble digits gently set down lustrous silverware whilst he thoughtfully cants his head. “Is there something wrong with it? You usually don’t seem to think so. You talk to Skywalker whenever the two of you eat together. When you have dinner with the traitor and the pilot, you talk.” He knows this because of their bond. Those moments were serene ones for her - filled with lighthearted and amiable exchanges of words in the case of the latter two individuals. He likes thinking of them no more than he likes speaking of them - both her meddlesome companions and the moments themselves. He hopes that in time, she'll find herself wanting not for them.

Though she appears to be flabbergasted, he can **feel** the vexation boiling within her. “You talk as if you’re the same as them. Have you already forgotten that you’re my captor?” He doesn’t want it to be that way, though. He wants her to see that he’s tried his best to allow her freedom. “You’re free to wander the grounds and the surrounding area as you please. You’ll be free to leave in a matter of days.” Given the fact that she truly believes she will be able to prove him wrong, he knows that she can’t argue with it. What she can and does do, however, is bring up previous transgressions. “You slammed me against a tree. You _tried_ to kill a friend of mine. You **did** kill someone I respected.” Without hesitation slowing him down, he speaks quickly to justify his aggressive actions. Something he usually doesn’t find necessary, but so much is different when it comes to **her**. “I did that because I couldn’t allow you to leave. I wasn’t trying to **kill** you. I needed you _unconscious_. As for the traitor, treason warrants execution. He _**should**_ have died.” He refuses to speak of the deceased smuggler - the roguish man she believed to be a potential father figure. 

Her coarse extremities are violently slammed on the table as she rises to a standing position. Her glare is heated - like a roaring fire daring doltish bystanders to touch it - and she’s absolutely livid. The darkness is freely singing within her whilst the light fearfully cowers in a small corner of her heart. He can **feel** it. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Not when you’re not even hearing yourself. This is exactly why I don’t want to talk to you. I can finish my meal alone. Leave. _**Now**_.” He doesn’t want to. So, he reluctantly addresses the trenchant accusation that he was so disinclined to acknowledge a moment ago. “Han Solo would have disappointed you. I wasn’t lying. He would have abandoned you just like _ **your** _ family did. I killed him because I thought it was for the best.” He’s sealed himself in a coffin and he knows it when he unexpectedly finds himself flung against a wall. A choking sensation is soon felt and he automatically recognizes this as something that he’s done numerous times ever since forsaking his original master. 

For a moment - a terribly **fleeting** one, he beholds a stunning vision. With fiery eyes and an icy sneer, she stands there as the epitome of unadulterated wrath. A wondrous glimpse of the redoubtable ruler that she could become if only she ceased clinging to impossibilities. When she realizes what she’s done - that she’s tapped into the dark side without care, the Force hold around his neck comes to an abrupt halt and her back is swiftly turned to him. Appalled by her own viciousness, she holds herself but darkly utters a sharp warning. “I told you to get out. I won’t repeat myself.” Despite wanting to see more of this enthralling side of her - to augment her tempestuous choler, he quietly takes his leave and resolves to give her the distance that she surely craves tonight. He doesn't regret unshackling the power that she would rather restrain, but he doesn't want to drive her away - to make her even _more_ resistant to him. 

This is _**not**_ the point of no return. A new day is on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for taking the time to read. Thank you for the kudos in response to the first chapter! As with that one, kudos and comments in response to this one are truly appreciated. I was beyond excited to write it. I hope to have the third chapter posted relatively soon.


	3. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of an unforgotten incident is dealt with, motives are unveiled, and middleground is discovered during the first half of their second day together.

She’s terribly ashamed and incredibly peevish. An entire year of training invalidated by a single moment. It’s not just the presumptuous remarks about her family and friends or his unabashed hypocrisy, but his inexhaustible tenacity as well. His unyielding relentlessness in pursuing her frequently disrupted the innumerable training sessions that she was guided through by her sagacious mentor. He’d inexplicably feel obliged to provide additional help whenever she struggled to assimilate the valuable nuggets of information that she would be generously fed. She neither _requires_ **his** assistance nor _desires_ it. She doesn’t enjoy feeling incompetent and admitting to anyone - herself or someone else - that her own prowess is insufficient in the face of imminent danger does not come easy to her, which is but one of the reasons why hesitation consumed her heart when her hazel eyes first acquainted themselves with the senescent form of her preferred instructor. Although she’s made it quite clear that his obstinate nephew’s broad knowledge was better used for purposes other than fruitlessly attempting to transform her into his faithful apprentice, _**he**_ has not forsaken the precarious endeavor. 

The one advantage that she had whilst residing on the mysterious Ahch-To was being able to forcibly mute him whenever he proved to be intolerable. Like closing a heavy door, she could prevent him from lingering by stifling their connection. The bond would leave an appreciable scintilla of unfeigned dissatisfaction within her turbulent heart in the wake of his involuntary departure, but she would willfully _**ignore** _ it. Besides, that wasn’t the only ‘gift’ that would be bestowed unto her. The ire that their initial encounter enkindled within her and the fluctuating curiosity that the unanticipated revelation of the abstruse creature beneath the ominous mask begot within her would both grow stronger after each mental discourse that they partook in. She could dilute both before they were unwisely given the rare opportunity to drastically inconvenience her since she could silence him whenever her mercurial patience waned. She had no choice but to do so under the hypervigilant scrutiny of her shrewd master, who she vehemently refused to allow to discover the disconcerting potency of the darkness in her heart. 

Here, however, she cannot hastily rid herself of her persistent tempter so easily. Sure, she can close herself off to him mentally like she’s become accustomed to doing, but his physical presence is now another hurdle on the path to taming her wild emotions. The implacable rage that she had conscientiously shoved aside had broken free from its iron restraints because of his most recent emotions and actions. Months of assiduously subduing it culminated in an unmentionable act of impetuous betrayal. That person - fueled by a barbaric desire to vengefully inflict pain - to injure without the legitimate excuse of self-defense, that _**wasn’t** _ and _ **isn’t**_ her. As much as he’d deserved it and so much more, he had been given no time to brandish his aberrant saber. Besides, attacking first is _**not**_ the Jedi way. They both know that. 

She’d taken the night to accept a moment that like so many others she cannot rewrite. To brush herself off and get back on her feet with a newfound resolve. She’s fortunate that her master isn’t here because she can keep her momentary lapse of judgement a secret. Even if she doesn’t want to share it with _ **him**_. Under no circumstance will it happen again. She just hopes that the grim incident had not been felt through the Force by her true mentor or his admirable sibling. 

To her disappointment, the door of her room abruptly swings open to permit _ **him**_ to enter. Deliberately does she avoid descrying unobscured features. Her undivided attention is promptly ensnared by the solitary platter that is being skillfully balanced upon the palm of a gloved extremity. “I’ve taken the liberty of bringing you your morning meal.” Though the vibrant chunks of fruit and the grainy pieces of bread look undeniably appealing, his declaration is noticeably accompanied by a peculiar implication and it promptly impels her viridescent optics to meet fathomless ones. “My morning meal? Does that mean people eat according to time? How many meals does one usually have?” His countenance adopts a facial expression bespeaking unsought pity and it summons a deep scowl to her nude lips. “Normally, yes. Three.” It sounds like _ **overeating**_ to her, but the detail is subconsciously committed to memory. Whilst offering a solitary nod of acknowledgement, a bare extremity unceremoniously gestures to the now unsullied table in her room. The _ **handiwork**_ of a duteous droid. “Leave it on the table.” She still doesn’t want to be around him. As if to wordlessly remind her that he is entitled to doing as he pleases when he wishes to, he defiantly sets the tray on the middle of the bed beside her legs and seats himself beside it. It’s an unbidden and unappreciated invasion of her space. “I brought enough to share.” _Clearly_. 

“What happened last night  ” With an erroneous assumption surely in his mind, she’s unhesitantly interrupted. “An apology isn’t necessary. Never apologize for who you are.” There’s an abrupt flare of anger because of his brazenness, but she smothers it with soothing thoughts of placid waters. “What happened last night won’t happen again. That person isn’t me.” Palpable frustration emerges within stormy eyes. “Why must you _ **fight** _ it? You were powerful - you are powerful. If you would just accept yourself - your entire self, your concerns would no longer exist. You could take anything that you desired. No opponent would dare to defy you. You wouldn’t have to do anything that you were against doing. You could live comfortably.” With the slippery tendrils of choler caressing her tongue, she coolly poses a minatory query. Although the anger is there, it’s still under her control. “Do you want to be killed?” It was meant to dissuade him from continuing on this treacherous path, but he candidly replies. “I want you to fully use the Force as you should without using it against me outside of training.” 

She isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. So, she takes the opportunity to begin nourishing herself. Nimble appendages pluck a green square from the diverse assortment that has been arranged. His impassioned eyes never leave hers. “Do you stare down everyone you talk to?” Hearing herself inquire about this prominent tendency of his causes an ethereal smile of amusement to discreetly toy with soft lips. “When I want something or when I take interest in them.” She knows what he’s waiting for and after devouring the comestible she’s claimed, she acknowledges his unarticulated demand. “I won’t be a killer.” Undaunted, he impetuously releases an utterance that is hardly convincing. “You can use the Dark Side without killing people.” The smile abandons her face as she picks up a warm piece of bread. “Not exactly living proof, are you?” His displeasure - his vexation - is discerned through their abnormal connection. “My master knew little of leniency. Fortunately for you, I’ll be more of a merciful teacher.” She perfunctorily assumes that the undeniable awkwardness of her being the only one to have started eating has successfully caught his attention, because he begins to sample the fruit whilst she furrows her chocolate brows. “Knew little of? You speak as if Snoke is dead.” A smug smile is all that she needs. “You. You killed him.” She’s not sure how to feel or what to say about his momentous ascension, but there is unmitigated astonishment and a sizable hint of apprehension within her. “His title is mine now.” 

There’s an odd - neither comfortable nor uncomfortable - silence as the two of them dine together. Once more, she knows that he’s waiting for her to do something and she knows what that something is. “I don’t want to be taught by the person who murdered someone I revered and someone who wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to my friends.  Tell me. Why did you do it? Why did you kill your father?” He’s thoroughly displeased with the topic selection, but her bold demand is not rejected immediately. Though she can't help but wonder why, she refrains from questioning luck. “If I tell you, will you consider becoming my apprentice?” At first, it seems like an unreasonable trade, but she’s quick to notice that he’s merely entreating her to _entertain_ the preposterous notion. “I wouldn’t be forced to use the Dark Side?” After all, it’s one of the main reasons why she’s so opposed to the distasteful concept. “You’ll have to use it to understand it, but I won’t force you to use it for the rest of your life.” She’d rather not use it at all, but his leniency is not unnoticeable and it’s not as if she’s committing herself to anything extraordinarily significant. “I’ll….consider it.” He’s gratified by her response, which is met with a single nod of approval. “I was ordered to. It was supposed to put an end to the light inside of me. Disobeying someone who can end your life without being in the same room as you isn’t wise. As it stands, he guide me in the direction that I needed and wanted to go in. He was a wise leader.” If by wise, he means callous and manipulative, then he’s _tremendously_ wise.

Unconstrained bitterness enters her voice as she becomes painfully aware of just how needless the grisly expiry of the eminent smuggler was. “It didn’t, did it? His death didn’t destroy the light.” Solemnly, he confirms that which she’s already presumed to be true. “No. I can’t destroy it. I allow it to exist along with the dark.” Without prudence influencing her, she poses a query that several individuals - two being respectable relatives of his - would probably take great interest in having answered. “Then why can’t you go home? Your mother will forgive you.” Masculine features abruptly harden as his obdurate resolve makes its presence known once more. “No, the Resistance cannot fix the galaxy. I must do it myself and I need you with me. The Force demands it.” She’s convinced that it’s incapable of feeling or of demanding anything, but she doesn’t articulate this seemingly contentious opinion of hers. Instead, she sensibly opts to highlight a significant point. “Just because we’re bound, doesn’t mean we have to live together.” Dismissively, he shakes his head from side to side. “We can’t be apart. You know what happens when we aren’t.” He’s not wrong, she does know. That haunting feeling of misplacing something important inevitably arises when ample distance is placed ‘tween them. They’re without something crucial when apart. She just has no intention of being **ruled** by these unbidden emotions. 

They’re clearly at an impasse on the matter. So, she reluctantly alters course. “What will you do when I win?” A discernible smile - inordinately arrogant - shamelessly toys with his lips. “This is only the second day and already you’re grasping at victory. After last night, can you continue to be so sure of yourself?” Left with no other acceptable choice, she grudgingly retreats from the delicate topic because he’s made an unassailable case. She gracelessly consumes another piece of bread before focusing on a less distant future. “Fine, what are we doing today?” After all, now that he knows she’s awake, she’s quite sure that he doesn’t plan on leaving her be. “I’m going to give you a formal tour. You’ll enjoy the gardens the most. When we’re done, we’ll start with your lessons. Neutral territory. I know you’d prefer it.” She’d prefer to immerse herself in the Light Side, but middleground is the best that can be hoped for when it comes to him. 

“When can I contact the Resistance?” His eyes narrow ever so slightly and it quickly becomes exceptionally apparent that he meant to **sever** her ties with the aforementioned organization. “I don’t recall saying you could.” Chocolate brows are instinctively furrowed as she determinedly contends with his dominant nature. “They **need** to know that I’m safe.” She can tell that he doesn't feel that way in the slightest. “You owe them _nothing_.” For altruistically showing exceptional hospitality, she is indebted to them but it is not an obligation that impels her to inform them of her continued survival. She truly _**cares**_. “I **want** to tell them. They’ll worry about me otherwise.” Without blinking, he continues to demonstrate his unfounded possessiveness. “They’ll worry either way. They won’t want you around someone they don’t trust.” As uncompromising as he's undeniably being, he's also being truthful in his own way. She knows that even if she contacts them, they won't truly feel at ease. Even so, she's not prepared to back down. “If you expect us to live together, we can’t argue each day.” She can only watch as he impatiently grumbles out a rather _selfish_ remark. “We wouldn’t have to if you just saw things **my** way.” Vexed by his farcical 'solution', she narrows her own vigilant eyes into an icy glare.  “You know that won’t happen. I’m not you. I know that you have a way for me to contact them. Let me use it. I’m not asking to leave. I just want them to know that I’m alive.” For a moment, it's just them engaging each other in an immature battle of cantankerous glares, but that which commences must conclude. “Fine, but I must be present.” It's the most appealing outcome that will be yielded by their little match, which is why she doesn't resist. She does give out a stern and necessary warning, however. “I’ll expect you to control yourself.”  

He spares the nearly vacant platter a fleeting glance. "Are you done?" As tantalizing as the thought of remaining here - away from him - for the remainder of the day truly is, enjoyment is not gleaned from idleness. "I suppose." With that, he stands and makes his way to the burnished wardrobe. Unsure of his current course of action, she watches with fervent curiosity consuming her eyes as he opens it and deftly retrieves an outfit. A pair of ash colored trousers and a beige tunic. They're neatly set on the unoccupied edge of her spacious bed. He pauses whilst a conspicuous smirk appears on his face as he takes notice of something in the costly wardrobe on his way to close it. Although the idea of indirectly allowing him to dress her by willingly donning the attire that he'd surely selected himself for her should have **repelled** her, the gossamer green dress that had been placed in it had seemed to be the only suitable option for nightwear after she'd bathed following their chaotic evening. She assumes its glaring absence in the wardrobe had wordlessly informed him of her decision to wear it. "While I'm pleased to see you my gifts being accepted, that particular piece won't work for today's activities. Get dressed. I'll return to retrieve you shortly." Just like that, he exists the stately room to provide her the privacy needed to follow his command. Only after reclaiming the messy platter, that is. In solitude once more, she brusquely throws the lavish sheets off of her and reveals the sight that he'd surely wished to see. Consisting of sumptuous fabrics, the elegant piece reaches her knees and leaves her back exposed. She cannot sincerely deny that she likes it, but it's not enough to eradicate her burning desire to return to her cherished friends. None of these 'gifts' are. Not wanting him to discover her in an indecent state, she prudently and hastily makes to prepare for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it to this point, thank you so much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed it. A lot is going to happen on day two, which is why I had to decide how to approach it. I ultimately decided to split it into two chapters. So, this is part one of day two. I hope to have the next chapter ( part 2 ) uploaded relatively soon. As always, kind comments and kudos are appreciated!


	4. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The presence of other humans becomes apparent, the scent of rumors becomes detectable, and a lesson begins.

True to his word, he returns without his infernal bucket of a mask after she's traded ostentatious clothing for more comfortable attire. Neither too tight nor too baggy, she cannot help but wonder how it is that he was able to ascertain her sizes with impeccable accuracy. These garments were clearly selected for her prior to her arrival and he had not been in her presence for long up to that point. During the moments that they had been together, there had been more consequential matters for him to focus on - the pursuit of an elusive map first and then his pursuit of _**her**_ following her inevitable escape. There's also the matter of her figure having become fuller during her time with her reclusive master and even during her brief stay at the Resistance's inviting base. All things considered, he should not have been able to gather such intimate details. It should have been an inconceivable impossibility, but he's inexplicably made it a miraculous accomplishment. Not only does it perplex her, but it does something indescribable within her as well. She can't quite identify the feeling, but she knows that it stems from his fervent interest in her. He's the only one who has managed to make her feel this way. 

Nevertheless, his anticipated reappearance pulls her from her impromptu session of rumination. Unconcealed satisfaction illumines dark eyes the moment he espies her. Though she's undeniably tempted to inquire about his confounding awareness of her physical form, she ultimately refrains from doing so. Though it might seem like a harmless topic, the act of obtaining somewhat unnecessary information about him will undoubtedly contribute to the sustainment of her inextinguishable curiosity about him. If she's to win this unsought competition that he's devised, she must do what she can to ignore that voracious thirst for knowledge pertaining to the persistent knight. "Come." With that, he simply turns on his heel and begins to exit the room under the impression that she'll obediently follow. The available option of riling him by blatantly disregarding his straightforward command is certainly appealing, but she knows that she'll accomplish little more than that. She's not some petulant child to be reprimanded and behaving as if the opposite is true certainly won't deter him from discovering an alternative means of persuading her to accompany him. So, albeit reluctantly, she trails behind her towering captor with a visible scowl on her face all the while. 

Although she'd rather not be around him at all, she's as content as can be with the distance separating their contrasting forms. He's several feet ahead of her; his backside is practically a moving wall. Unfortunately, she quickly becomes aware that her contentedness is not mutually shared. Undisguised irritation rolls off of him in thick waves as he abruptly halts and turns to face her. Before she can even predict his hasty move, a gloved extremity firmly grasps one of her bare hands and she's unhesitantly pulled to his side. Not one to shy away from the notion of expressing her discomfort, she squanders no time at all in shooting him a scathing glare. "Let go of my hand." An unabashed smirk graces his countenance with its distinguishable presence. As his dissatisfaction wanes, hers strengthens. "What kind of a host would I be if I spoke to my guest with my back faced to her?" It's his method of dismissing her unambiguous demand. As if to obliterate any doubts that might be lingering, he turns back around and resumes navigating immaculate halls. This time, with her by his side. 

Although she observed her surroundings yesterday while en route to a nonexistent destination - a means of escape that she had been unable to find, she had not taken the time to do so thoroughly. Now, however, there isn't much else to do. She's still pleased by the noticeable absence of dour hues such as ominous charcoal and bleak slate. In their place are more attractive ones such as snow white. "This territory has belonged to my family for years. It's an ideal place for a retreat. Changes have been made to it over time. Your room was made to look the way it does under my guidance." She knows that the last part is meant to distract her from the apparent vagueness of his earlier statements. She presumes that he's taking measures deemed necessary to ensure that she is unable to depart prematurely. While he's successfully convinced her of the glaring absence of a ship that could be used to distance herself from him and the numerous temptations that he's presented to her, it's only a matter of time until he fulfills their agreement about contacting her friends. If equipped with enough information, she could assist them in locating her and she has no doubt that that scenario is one that he will allow to become a reality.

"Why? You originally planned on keeping me here for fifteen days. It seems wasteful to go through the trouble for a short amount of time." Chocolate brows are instinctively furrowed when a smug smile replaces the audacious smirk. "I intended to keep you for much longer than that. I still do." She's not sure whether to be alarmed or vexed because of the implication that might be hiding behind those confident words, but her gaze is prying as she glances up at him. "Were you lying when we made our deal?" Unhesitantly, his stormy eyes meet hers and there is nothing but unswerving conviction to be found in them. "I told you that I wouldn't lie to you. I've kept my word and I have no intention of changing that." She shouldn't trust him - she tells herself that she _ **doesn't**_ , but she does believe in the potency of his commitment to **honesty** in her presence. It's because of this that she's able to determine the true significance of his earlier assertion. Hazel eyes are indignantly narrowed as she ceases looking at his marred countenance. "You're just expecting me to lose. You're _ **counting** _ on it." An audible chuckle is inadvertently elicited from him. "You're a formidable opponent, which is why I know that you'll lose in a battle against yourself. Although you haven't been here for long, you've already started to prove to me that I'm right." With a irrefutable observation - something one might consider to be a generous compliment - thrown in, she knows that the endeavor of disputing the matter would prove to be more trouble than it's worth. So, even though there's a part of her that still wants to quarrel with him, she grudgingly decides against it. What matters more is actually disproving those arrogant beliefs by the end of their time together. 

Eventually, after descending a stainless flight of stairs, they come to a smooth halt before a set of double doors. Much like the ones in her room - her _**gilded cage**_ , they're ornate and allow her to peer outside through their several square windows. A brief wave of his unoccupied hand causes them to steadily open and reveal a section of land that is neatly bordered by a small white fence capable of being stepped over. Luscious fruits of various colors, unrecognizable flowers that exhibit not signs of weakness, and several types of wholesome vegetables cover the fertile area of land. She's quick to descry an elderly woman meticulously tending to the area. With kind eyes, a hospitable smile, and unpretentious clothing, the elder temporarily abandons her work in favor of greeting them. "This garden is a newer addition. This is its caretaker. Ernest." His words validate and refine an assumption that had already begun to blossom within her shrewd mind upon catching sight of the approachable senior. She's given a gentle and respectful smile before being verbally addressed. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Ren." Her eyes automatically widen in response and she urgently tries to pry her captive hand from the staunch grip that the he currently has on it, but his hold proves to be unbreakable. Much like their accursed bond through which she can easily sense the inordinate amount of pride that the objectionable manner in which she's been greeted has aroused within him. Though she gives up on freeing the hand in question, the idle one is dismissively waved and she promptly makes to **correct** the severely mistaken woman. "No, it's not what you think. Whatever he told you is wrong. I'm just Rey." Realizing she hasn't returned the caretaker's benign sentiment, she considerately remedies that in her own way. "The garden looks amazing. Can I try one of the fruits?" She's both relieved and happy to see how grateful her words have left her newest acquaintance. While she really _**would** _ like to try one, the question was mainly meant to enhance her compliment. "Thank you, Rey. They need to be washed first, but I can deliver several to your room. Shall I deliver some to your room, Lord Ren?" She's truly astonished by the polite smile that he offers the thoughtful woman. "Not today. We'll be continuing on now." 

As they take their leave, she articulates thoughts that vehemently refuse to be left unvoiced. "I didn't think you were capable of showing anyone kindness. Are you _ **forcing**_ her to serve you?" Heedlessly made known, her unmitigated suspicion causes him to perceptibly flinch and she _ **almost**_ feels bad for posing the incisive query in the first place. "She's here because I saved her life. She wants to repay me. I allow her to do as she pleases around the estate." His explanation is undoubtedly sincere and it stuns her. She incorrectly assumes that to be the end of the matter, but then his presence in her mind suddenly grows stronger. 

_ 'Besides, I've shown **you** kindness.' _

Not without being influenced by _**ulterior motives**_ , has he done so. Though her fundamental needs - such as nourishment and shelter - have been taken care of exceedingly well, she knows that this is simply because he wants her to find the idea of remaining with him of her own volition irresistibly enticing. He's ultimately a man on a mission. 

_ 'You forget. Unlike **her** , I'm not here because I want to be. I'm here because I have no choice.' _

He's thoroughly displeased thanks to the pithy reminder. Not only can she feel it, but the leaden frown that ages his masculine visage serves as compelling evidence. A part of her feels unapologetically triumphant. After all, there's a certain amount of satisfaction to be gleaned from knocking down someone who proudly sits atop a pedestal. Another part of her - a more traitorous part - foolishly pities him, but it's smothered with haste.

The rest of their journey takes place in silence and soon enough, they arrive at a spacious and doorless room. Not windowless, though, as there is one that showcases a magnificent view of the planet's natural beauty. It's so massive that it nearly takes up the entire wall. Save for some cabinets and two obsidian mats on the polished floor, the room is essentially barren. "This is where you'll learn." Finally, he releases her hand in favor of taking a seat on one of the thin mats. With a graceful flourish of his hand, he motions to the one across from him. "Have a seat. We'll start with a few tests. I need to see what that old man taught you." 

The disrespectful manner in which he's referred to her revered instructor - his _**uncle** _ \- incenses her, but she does as she's told - even if she does it in an exceptionally unceremonious manner. She'd be lying if she said that she wasn't the least bit curious about the nature of the impending tests. "Now what?" There's a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as he provides an answer. "Close your eyes." She'd much rather not in the presence of someone so _**unpredictable**_ , but she allows her eyelids to descend before and conceal her expressive eyes.

_ 'Without opening them, tell me where I am.' _

It sounds simple, but it quickly proves itself to be _ **deceptively easy**_ when she tentatively reaches out through the Force. For while she presumes him to be right in front of her and her attentive ears have not discerned any environmental changes, it suddenly feels as if he's everywhere and nowhere at once. Clearly, he's manipulating his unique signature, but he's doing so in an unfamiliar way. In a way that she hadn't known to be possible. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. Well, there goes the idea of splitting up the second day into two parts. At some point, while writing this, I realized that I was going to have to make it three parts because it just kept getting longer. I hope to have the third part up relatively soon. As always, kind comments and kudos are genuinely appreciated. They truly make my day. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. I hope that you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> So it begins! Not only is this my first Reylo fanfiction piece, but it's my first work on AO3 in general. For months, I've been reading Reylo fanfiction on my phone without having an account and I finally decided to join in on the fun after this idea came to me while I was at a local convention. I'm truly fascinated by this character connection. Due to various things, I won't be updating regularly, but I do intend to do my best to not let too much time pass in between chapters. If you've made it to this point, thank you so much for reading! As a disclaimer, I own nothing ( the characters, SW, etc. ) but the fic idea and my writing style.


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